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"She's beautiful," she said.
"I know," Wes said.
Rose put her hand on the side of her son's face while she focused on me. "And he's a handsome one, isn't he?"
I nodded, but Wes shrugged and began to move, distracting his mom. "Don't embarrass her, Mom," he said, beginning to walk toward the carrousel, which was now moving.
"She's not embarrassing me," I said.
Rose smiled at me and linked her arm in mine despite the fact that her son had a hold of my other hand. Rose reached out to take Jesse's hand and pull him toward the carrousel with us, causing us to link up like a human chain.
"He's super handsome," I said, leaning in to speak near Rose's ear. "The most handsome man in London, I think."
"Seeee, I told you," Rose said, teasing her son. "She's not embarrassed at all."
***
"You'll be staying in Ivy's room," Rose said as we walked into the house a little later. I had brought an oversized carryon and a piece of checked luggage, both of which pushed the limit on both weight and size. I wasn't too high maintenance with my wardrobe, but I kept seeing things around my flat that I wanted to bring with me, just in case.
Rose led the way down the hall. Jesse followed her, carrying my big suitcase. They showed me to a doorway on the left side of the hall, and we all went through it—all accept Wes. I glanced over my shoulder to find that he was standing at the door, smiling.
"I hope you like One Direction," he said nudging his chin toward the poster on the wall.
I glanced at it. "Especially the early years," I said.
"Ivy took that down when she was in high school," Rose said. "But then she put it back up the other day when she came over here with a little girl she was babysitting. I heard them say they both love Harry."
"Harry, huh?" I asked, setting my things at the foot of the bed. "I've always been a Zayn girl myself."
"I heard that!" Wes shouted from the hallway. I glanced at the door with a smile, but he wasn't standing there. I was still looking in that direction when he peeked around the corner again. "My room's right across the hall," he said. "If you want, we could get two tin cans and some string, and we could talk later."
I smiled. "Or you can text me on your cell phone."
"Or I could just come in here," he said. Wes was smiling as he retreated into the hallway again. Jesse went to the door as if he, too, were leaving the room. He smiled at me and patted the doorjamb a couple of times, and I gave him a little thankful wave. I saw so much of Wes in Jesse, and I got lost in thought for a second about what a handsome family they were.
"Come outside and see the target when you can," Jesse said on his way out.
"I will," I called. "Thank you."
We had discussed my knife throwing hobby on the way home from the airport, and Jesse told me that he, Daniel, and Owen had built a target in the back yard and had been practicing a little bit in an effort not to be completely shown up by Wes. This conversation had started a whole round of hilarious back-and-forth smack talking between Wes and his father that had Rose and me laughing. She said she had even taken a try at it, but hadn't yet been able to make it stick into the target. I loved that they were so willing to talk about my hobby and even want to try it themselves. It made me feel at ease—so comfortable.
"Everybody's gonna start arriving in an hour or so," Rose said. "I'll let you relax and unpack. Just come out there and join us whenever you like. I'm gonna get dinner started."
She adjusted a few things on Ivy's dresser, pushing them to the side so I had more room. She turned and smiled at me as if she was about to leave, but she hesitated.
"I just wanted to thank you for coming here and bringing my son home," she said. "It really means the world to us."
She stepped closer to me and reached out to take my hand. We squeezed each other's hands firmly. I did it because I was nervous and shaking, and she just squeezed me back.
"Wes really wanted to come see you guys," I said, feeling like I needed to say something but not knowing what. "He's the one who invited me."
"I know, sweetie, but a mama knows her babies, and I just know that something's a little different with him this time. He's seeing things differently—seeing home differently. I can tell it in his eyes. I see something that wasn't there before—contentment maybe, homesickness, I don't know. He's just always been such a searcher, and now it's like he's settled in his own skin. It gives me hope that I might have him back closer to home one day." She tilted her head at me, looking regretful. "I hope I'm not scaring you. I hope I'm not making it seem like we're gonna try to trap you here or anything."
I thought about how I should respond to that, but all of the possible options got stuck in my head like a traffic jam. My instinct was to say, "No, you're not making it seem like that," but what came out of my mouth was, "I'd love it if you'd trap me here." I had whispered it because I didn't want Wes to overhear from the next room, but I unintentionally said it even too quietly for Rose to hear.
She put her ear toward me as if asking me to repeat myself.
"Nothing," I said, letting out a little nervous laugh. "You just said you're not trying to trap me here, and I said I was fine with you doing that."
Her face changed to a sweet smile when she realized what I had said, and she stopped holding my hand and instead reached out to wrap her arms around me.
"I just love you, sweet Jolene," she said, holding me tightly.
"You have two whole weeks to smother her, Mom."
Wes's voice came from the door, and Rose's grip on me loosened as soon as we heard it. She and I both glanced at him.
She took a step away, giving my arm one last squeeze. "I can't help it," she said as she went toward the door.
Wes had come into the room, and his mom gave him a pat on the butt as she walked past him and out the door. He grinned as he came closer to me. I thought about what his mom had said and realized he did seem content, like he was settled in his own skin.
"What are you thinking about?" he asked.
"Your parents. Your mom. She's so sweet."
"They're good people," he said.
"Who's here? Is my brother here? Wesley James? Hellooo?"
A female voice came from the direction of the hall. We could hear it long before we could see her. It was as if she started yelling at us from the kitchen because her voice started off quiet, but got louder and louder as she approached.
"Did you come to see us from London?" Her last question was delivered in a thick British accent that caused me to smile at Wes.
He shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Ivy," he said, even though I had already figured that out.
Wes and I were sharing a conspiratorial smile as she came around the corner. She rushed into the room and went straight into her brother's arms.
"Oh, my goodness, I'm so happy you're home. I can't believe you're staying for like two weeks!" She squeezed him tightly with a groan and then pulled back to look at his face. I watched as she reached up to pat his cheek. I had seen pictures of her, but she was even more beautiful in person. Her hair and eyes were lighter than Wes's, but the family resemblance was definitely there.
I was so caught up in watching her greet her brother that it took me by surprise when she turned and focused on me. "You must be the famous Jolene," she said.
"I am," I said. I started to say something about not being famous or not knowing I was famous, but I felt goofy, and couldn't decide what to say. I left it at, "I am," which also felt goofy.
Ivy smiled. She still had her arm around her brother's waist as she spoke to me. "Just so you know, you're the first girl my brother has ever brought home from London."
I smiled and gave her a nod. "I'm honored."
"I thought when he brought home a girl she would have an accent."
I smiled. "I'm from here. I've only lived in London for about six years."
"Huh, about like Wes."
She repositioned to stare up at her brother. "Are y'a
ll in looove?" she asked.
My heart began beating like crazy. I had no idea she would be so candid, and my gut clinched as I waited to hear how Wes would react.
"Definitely," he said, nodding.
"Are you gonna get married and move back to Memphis?" she asked.
This caused Wes to laugh. "Probably and probably," he said. "But stop scaring Jo. I haven't quite cleared those things with her yet."
"Jo?" Ivy said, looking at me. "Is that what people call you? Short for Jolene?"
"Yeah, it's short for Jolene, but just my family and Wes call me that really, everyone else calls me Jolene."
"I guess I count as family since my brother just said he was probably gonna marry you."
I smiled and nodded at her. "I guess so," I said, still feeling insanely nervous.
"Well, Jo, do you love my brother as much as he loves you?"
"Ivy!" Wes stared at his sister like she needed to settle down, but I smiled, telling him it was okay.
"What?" she asked innocently. "I've never seen you love a girl, and I just wanted to make sure she loves you back. I'm protective of you."
I don't know what I expected with Ivy, but I really liked how straightforward she was. I think I had expected her to make chitchat about our flight and things like that, but obviously that wasn't how she operated.
"Yeah, but you don't need to bust in here asking her all that the second we arrive," Wes said.
"I do love him," I said. "I very much do. I loved your brother even before he loved me."
Ivy was obviously pleased by my statement because she smiled and looked at me and then Wes, holding her hand over her chest.
"We were friends first," Wes said. "She was teaching me how to throw knives. I thought she was just my friend, and then something happened. Something changed."
"That's so sweet. And I can't believe you know how to throw knives," Ivy said. "That's like the coolest thing ever. You've got my dad started at it. He ordered this big set of knives and some ninja stars."
"Ninja stars?" Wes asked.
Ivy suddenly pulled back, staring at her brother with a scowl like she had just remembered something. She pushed at his shoulder. "Speaking of skills, Wesley James, Mom said you were some kind of rock star now. What's that all about? The last you told me, you were going to try to learn how to play the guitar. Then the next thing I hear, you're hot stuff over in Europe. What, do you have a record deal or something?"
"I'm not hot stuff," he said. "I just started playing, and singing, and writing, and before I knew it, I was playing gigs."
"Gigs? Like on a stage in front of people?"
"Yes," he said simply.
I almost chimed in about how the gigs were usually sold out or the fact that he had legions of female fans who clamored around the stage, but decided to stay quiet. "You know you're gonna have to put on a show for all of us tonight."
"I didn't bring my guitar."
"What? Why not?" she asked.
I shook my head. "That's the same thing I said when he picked me up to go to the airport."
"I'm calling Courtney," Ivy said. "I'm telling her to bring one over here tonight. Dad probably has one in the attic. I think he does, remember? Courtney's probably got a better one, though. Either way, you're doing it. You're playing us some music."
Chapter 18
Everyone began arriving soon after Ivy, and before I knew what was happening, the house was full. I tried to act calm, but I was completely overwhelmed. The whole family was wonderful. They were all so positive and upbeat with undeniable magnetism. What's more was that they went out of their way to make me feel at home.
Wes's brothers, Owen and Daniel, were the first to arrive. Daniel brought his wife, Courtney, and their son, Kip, who happened to be the cutest thing ever, complete with ruddy cheeks and curly blond hair.
It was honestly a trip meeting Courtney Cole. I had flashbacks of middle school when I went to the mall and stood in line at the music store for her debut CD, which was a mega hit. I mean, just a few years ago, she had sold out three shows at the O2 arena in London. I remembered hearing about it on the radio. As far as pop music was concerned, Courtney Cole was the stuff of legends.
When I started feeling starstruck, I just remembered that Bible verse and told myself that God felt the same about all of us—that He, honest to goodness, loves us all equally. I imagined someone who was sick, penniless, disabled, depressed, disfigured, dismembered, whatever, and I realized He loved those people just as much as he loves Courtney and all of these other wonderful, magical Bishops.
If the guy who gets his meals at the soup kitchen and sleeps under the bridge was just as important to God as Courtney Cole was, then perhaps there was nothing for me to be nervous about. To my own amazement, this helped. It honestly helped. God's word is funny like that—one little passage can soothe you, give you peace, set your mind at ease, change your perspective.
Owen and Darcy showed up right after Daniel and Courtney. Darcy had a small frame, and she was almost full term carrying twins, so she waddled along, which was really sweet. Wes's grandparents, Ivy and Michael (known as Shug and Doozy to the family) arrived after Owen, and then others started to pour in, and just like that, the house was full. I would meet someone, shake their hand, and give them a hug, and then I'd turn around to find another new face.
Wes was constantly by my side. He would embrace everyone who came in and then instantly introduce me to them. He told them my name was Jolene but quickly added that they could call me Jo or even JoJo if they wanted. He explained to me that he did that because they would probably shorten it anyway, but I didn't mind one bit since I took it to mean he wanted them to think of me as family. Shug kissed me on the cheek and called me JoJo without hesitation.
Next, I got to meet Wes's Aunt Jane and her husband, Gray. They owned a personal security company, which was how Daniel met Courtney. They had a son named Liam who was also there. He and his wife, Taylor, arrived with Jane and Gray, and they were all so sweet and eager to see Wes and meet me. Taylor had lived and studied in London, and we talked for a few minutes about her experience there, comparing notes on the city. Jane and Gray explained that their daughter, Shelby, was currently living in Chicago but had plans to move back to Memphis with her family later that year.
Wes had already told me a lot about them, but I was still overwhelmed with trying to keep everyone straight, so I was glad they told me again. That's what made me remember the nametags. I pretty much had everyone straight, but I had put a lot of work into them, and I knew if I didn't use them tonight, they would never see the light of day.
Ivy was standing next to me when I mentioned them to Wes. He said that I should go get them, and he asked if I wanted him to go with me, but Ivy (who had heard the whole exchange) insisted that she wanted to.
I handed them to her as soon as I took them from my bag.
"Oh snap," she muttered as she flipped through the stack. That was all she said, but she was smiling and shaking her head, so I assumed she liked them. She continued looking at them as we walked back toward the kitchen. "Y'all will not believe these nametags Jolene made!" she announced as we came down the hall together. "Oh my gosh, these are seriously the best, y'all."
I hesitated once I reached Wes's side, but Ivy tugged on my arm, urging me to follow her. "Come on, let's pass them out to everybody."
I smiled at her and easily did as she asked. I didn't mind following her, but I was glad she had taken over because I hadn't really considered the responsibility of handing them out to everyone. I sort of just pictured myself setting them on the counter and letting everyone find theirs.
Rose was busy in the kitchen, and Shug and Jane were standing in there with her. Ivy went to them first. She stood next to Shug, who curiously looked over her shoulder at the stack of tags. She flipped through the stack until she found Shug's name. I watched as Ivy handed the little piece of paper to her grandmother. Shug extended her arm and pulled her head back in an effor
t to bring that tiny piece of paper into focus.
"Oh, goodness, I need my readers for this," she said.
"You left a pair here," Rose said. "They're over by the coffee pot. Ivy, grab that pair of glasses for Shug."
The glasses in question were in reaching distance for Ivy so she leaned over and handed them to her grandmother before turning her attention to the tags again.
"Aunt Jane, here's yours. And mom, I saw yours in here, hang on, yeah, here it is." Shug looked my way, and the movement caused me to glance in her direction. She curled her finger at me, signaling that I should come closer to her. I was only standing a few feet away, but I came to the spot right next to her, leaning against the counter like she was doing. She stared at the tag for a few long seconds, taking in the details.
"Did you draw this, sweetheart?"
"Look at Doozy's," Ivy said, thrusting a second tag into Shug's hand.
"Oh, my goodness. Michael! Get in here and look at these!" She yelled at her husband who was in the next room, but then she smiled and focused on me again, speaking softly. "Are we supposed to peel these off and wear them? Because I don't know if I want to do that. It'll ruin it, don't you think? I might want to frame this." She looked around the kitchen trying to decipher if Ivy was handing one of them to everyone. "Did you make one of these for all of us?"
"Yes ma'am. They're just little nametags. I knew I'd be meeting a lot of you tonight, so I figured it was a good way for me to put names with faces."
She continued to stare at the tags with a look of amazement on her face. "This is me and Michael on this motorcycle, isn't it?" she said, inspecting her husband's tag.
"Yes ma'am, and if you look close, you can see it's got a—"
"Broken spoke," she said, finishing my sentence. "I see it. You drew a spoke missing right here. Michael!"
"I'm coming!" he called from the next room.
Wes had slowly moved in my direction. I had been watching him out of the corner of my eye. He stopped at the stove, saying something to his mom and tasting whatever she was cooking, but then he made his way over to me. I was comfortable around this family, but Wes brought me a sense of security that was undeniable. I smiled and breathed a sigh of relief, knowing he was coming to stand next to me.